Turncloak In The North
by tenzin.kendrick
Summary: Theon Greyjoy flees the siege of Winterfell, and agrees to escort Bran to the Wall, and to thereby join the Night's Watch. Rated T due to paranoia. Positive criticism appreciated.


The horns rang out once more. Piercing the solid walls of Winterfell when both ram and ballista had failed. In a way, this was more haunting than the sudden impacts of heavy boulders on the besieged castle. Those came, and the twenty one defenders knew they could not break through. The horn, on the other hand, stayed, echoed through the halls, a grim reminder that they were surrounded.

Theon drummed his fingers on an armrest, soaking in the heat from one of Winterfell's hearths. He had tried to sleep, to be prepared for the next day, but the damn horn persisted in keeping him at the threshhold of tiredness, while preventing him from slipping over. In the end, he gave up.

'I will kill that man.' He didn't even realize he spoke the words aloud. 'I don't care how many arrows they feather me with, how many spears they run me through, I will kill that horn-blowing bastard before I fall.'

'They want you to know your surrounded.'

He was startled, but didn't show it. It was what was expected of him. The men under his command saw a coward; they saw him as being assigned to pillage the costal villages to keep him out of the way. Since Theon realized this, he had focused on what they saw. Hoping that, on the voyage to Winterfell, he would have practiced enough for it to be just as effective there.

Either it worked with the Ironborn, or they hid their doubt in the Greyjoy prince better than he hid his incompetence from them. But it did not in Winterfell. Almost twenty years in these stone halls, twenty years with people who were close enough to see through any mask he set. Especially Maester Luwin.

The frail man stood at the entrance to the door; and no amount of acting as though he had expected Luwin's intrusion would convince him.

'I know I'm surrounded. I know that, because I stood on the battlements and saw that I was surrounded.' He left a pause between each word, too brief to be noticed by all but the most watchful.

'They don't want you to sleep. They want to sap your spirit before-'

Theon interrupted. 'Thank you, wise bald man, thank you for explaining siege tactics to me.' The horn came once more. 'Any word from my father?'

'No.'

Theon sniffed; perhaps it was Winterfell's cold, perhaps it was lack of sleep, perhaps it was pressure, and perhaps it was the damn horn blaring throughout the day and night. And moreso was desperation. He was reaching for straws, while trying to hold a loose mask upon his face. 'Send more ravens.'

'You killed all the ravens.' The mask slipped slightly further.

Theon gave an inward groan. Killing the ravens were ot prevent Winterfell's prisoners from seeking aid; but now, it did the same to him. He was as much a prisoner as those he threw into the cells. His walls were those of Winterfell, his guards the Bolton soldiers trying to break down the gates. Without thinking about it, he began to speak.

'The first time I saw Winterfell-.' He was cut off by another horn, and paused until it was silenced.

'The first time I saw Winterfell,' he began a second time, 'it looked like something that had been here for thousands of years, and would be here thousands of years after I died. I saw it, and thought, curse Ned Stark, who crushed our rebellion and killed my brothers. I thought, we never stood a chance against the man who lived here.'

Luwin interrupted. Theon had killed Winterfell prisoners for such offences; the old Sir Rodrik was proof of that.

'Lord Stark went out of his way to make it your home.'

The mask almost fell off completely, held only by the smallest strands of self control. 'Yes, my captors were so very kind to me, you love reminding me of that. Everyone in this frozen pile of shit has loved reminding me of that.' He stared into the flames, as though there was some secret to be learned from them.

He continued speaking. 'You know what its like to be told how lucky you are to be someone's prisoner? To be told how much you owe them? And then to go back home to your real father?' He left a noticeable pause between each sentence; the mask slipped further by each word, until he was trying to pull tears back into his eyes.

The horn came again, and Theon stopped, standing from the chair. He walked the closed window, looking through the brief cracks in the wooden covering that let moonlight through. After each word his voice came, until the mask fell.

'I will kill that man. I swear to the drowned god, the old gods, the new gods, every goddamn god from every goddamn land, I will kill that man.'

Luwin waited until he stopped before speaking. He knew full well the consequences of interrupting the Prince of the Iron Islands. 'Theon, listen to me. I serve Winterfell. Now Winterfell is yours, and I am bound by oath to serve you.'

'Then what is your council, trusted friend?' Theon placed as much spite as he could into that last word.

'Run. Five hundred northmen wait outside the walls, you have twenty men. You can't win. Wait for nightfall and run.'

'There's nowhere to run. I'd never make it back to the Iron Islands. And even if by some miracle I did, if by some miracle I slipped through their lines... I'd be a coward. The Greyjoy who ran. The shame of the family.' He slipped back into the seat, turning his back on Luwin, his eyes returning to the fire.

'Don't go home. Join the Night's Watch.' Theon raised his head a few inches, the only indication that he was still listening. 'Once a man has taken the black, he is beyond reach of the law.' The aged Maester placed a hand on the Greyjoy's shoulder. 'All his past crimes are forgiven.'

This Maester was more annoying, and far more stupid, than that damn horn blower. Still, he kept his tone restrained. 'I won't make it to the Wall. I won't make it ten feet.'

'There are ways.' Theon turned his head. 'Hidden passageways built so the Lords of Winterfell could escape. The road may be dangerous, but with a little luck...' He walked in front of the fire, into Theon's vision. 'The Night's Watch is an honorable order. You will have opportunities there.'

There was anger in the Greyjoy prince. How dare this stupid old man suggest this? Abandoning his men, the siege, everything. And walking headlong into more danger. He stood, then turned his back, facing the wall. It almost came as a shout.

'The opportunity for Jon Snow to cut my throat in my sleep!'

'The opportunity to make ammends for what you've done.' 

He turned to face the curtain, as though it could take the guilt from him. 'I've done a lot, haven't I? Things I never imagined myself doing.' The Maester shook his head.

'I've known you for many years, Theon Greyjoy. And you are not the man you are pretending to be. Not yet.'

Theon replied, not even looking at Luwin. The man's words cut deep, widening the cracks of already existing doubt. 'You may be right. I've gone too far to pretend to be anything else.'

'No. Listen to me.' Luwin's tone was forceful, commanding; and, albeit reluctantly, Theon met his gaze. 'I know what happened to Bran and Rickon.'

Theon looked away. The two bodies still hung in his memroy; burnt beyond recognition, suspended by ropes upon Winterfell's walls. They had been farmers' children, nothing more; they were guilty of nothing save for being in a convenient place when they were needed.

'They hate me,' he replied. 'I took their home away from them. If I die here, it's more than I deserve.'

'No. Do you know who's banners fly on the walls?'

'Roose Bolton, the flayed man. I've lived here twenty years, I know the heirachy here.'

'No. The colors. Bolton has a red flayed man on a field of pink. His son reversed them. You are looking at the Bastard of Bolton. Ramsay Snow.'

That took Theon's attention. There was no question; he was a coward, and this proved it. 'I need to get away.'

Luwin spoke. 'The nearest exit is in the catacombs. You can be a hundred meters behind Bolton's lines before they know you are missing.'

He had planned to fight, to hold onto the castle for the approval of a father he had never known. He had been planning to die here; and all it took was knowing who was at his gates for his resolve to crumble. 'Just me, several thousand miles of frozen tundra, and not a piece of stale bread.'

'I took the liberty of placing provisions within the tunnel. You and the others will be supplied until the village of Blackwatch.'

That took his attention. 'Others?'

'Bran, Rickon and their wolves are hidden within the catacombs. You will escort Rickon to Karhold, south of the Bay of Seals. Bran you will take to the Wall, to his brother.'

Theon gave a small laugh. 'You planned this the entire time, didn't you?' He brought his tone back under control. 'But what about you?'

'I... I will serve only to hinder you. I can guide you through the tunnels, but no more. I will wait within them until King Robb returns from his conquests in the South and retakes Winterfell.'

He nodded, before walking towards the door, slow enough for Maester Luwin to keep up. Not one eye was turned as the two of them descended to the Catacombs.


End file.
